Chamomile Tea
by KayeoRosuto
Summary: "Zoro wasn't sure when this became normal and he honestly couldn't remember when things had really started. When did a door slamming in the middle of the night wake him so easily?" A drabble that grew legs in which Sanji has some issues, Zoro helps. ZoSan/SanZo. Implied LuNa, Frobin. Trigger Warning: mentions of PTSD, anxiety. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Restless Night

**Hello, welcome to my first ever story published on here... Um, hope you enjoy it. Major shout out to SerpentWolfFang for betaing this for me, and encouraging me to actually do something with this, you rock!**

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Zoro wasn't sure when this became normal and he honestly couldn't remember when things had really started. When did a door slamming in the middle of the night wake him so easily? Roronoa Zoro, soon to be the greatest swordsman in the world, who routinely slept through marine attacks. He cracked open one bleary eye and looked towards the door, listening to the quick steps echoing down the hall. Groaning he sat up in the bunk, cradling his head in his hands. It had to be almost three in the morning.

"Zoro." Luffy's soft voice made the swordsman look up across the room at his captain. The boy glanced at the door then looked back to Zoro, tilting his head in question.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm going," Zoro groaned. He tugged on his boots, and debated momentarily on bringing his swords. No, he should be fine. They had only just recently left port, and Nami had said the next island wasn't for another two weeks or so, provided the nice weather held out. Plus, the longer stretch between islands decreased the likely hood of any marine bases being close by or them running into a patrolling ship.

"I'll bring them up if you need them." Luffy smiled at the swordsman before pulling the infamous straw hat back down over his face.

"Thanks," Zoro mumbled, still not quite awake. He moved as quietly as possible across the room, softly shutting the door behind him. He yawned and cracked his neck as he made his way up the stairs of the Sunny.

Standing out on the grass deck he arched his back, stretching more of his body in an attempt to chase away the lingering fuzziness that came with being woken up out of a deep sleep. He couldn't help but think about how easy it was for him to wake up from a dead sleep now-a-days. Whether that was from the individual he was about to go deal with, or just life on the sea he couldn't say, though he begrudgingly thought the former was the cause.

Looking up at the night sky he also couldn't help but wonder why exactly Luffy had decided to wake him up the first time this had happened. It had to have been shortly after Sanji had joined; the rubber captain had woken him up in the middle of the night telling him he needed to go up to the galley. Memories of Arlong Park still fresh, his sleep deprived state of mind had thought they were under attack and he remembered rushing into the kitchen swords drawn expecting Marines, rival pirates, hell he wouldn't've even batted an eye if goddamn mermen had been attacking again.

Instead he had found a very different situation.

Starting to feel more awake he took one last look up at the sky before making his way towards the kitchen. The strong smell of cigarette smoke and the sound of dishes crashing and being hastily moved around announced to him the sort of night it was. He slowly opened the door, squinting at the accompanying blue haze. Damn, he didn't think he had taken that long getting up. Either that or tonight was worse than he had expected.

"Sanji," he called, looking around for the chef. Pots and pans were scattered across the prep counters and miscellaneous plates and flatware were haphazardly scattered across the table. He sighed, definitely worse than he had thought. A loud thump followed by an even louder, "SHIT!" from the back of the kitchen told him where the blonde cook had hidden himself.

"Sanji?" Zoro called again, poking his head into the pantry to see a disheveled Sanji pushing a sack of potatoes off of himself. "What are you doing?" He couldn't help but smile a little, it was an amusing sight in spite of the situation.

Sanji all but snarled as he stood and shoved the offending fifty pound bag of vegetables back into its spot. He fixed Zoro with a glare that was a little too panicked for the swordsman's liking before gritting out, "counting."

"I can see that," Zoro said flatly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the man. "Why are you counting? We shipped out from port two days ago."

"Because," Sanji snapped, pushing a shaking hand through his hair before lighting another cigarette. He turned his back to Zoro, hands running over the supplies in front of him. He was muttering under his breath as he continued counting, apparently ignoring the fact that the shelves were so full they were practically bursting.

At this Zoro did roll his eyes before heading back over to the counters. He found it was best not to intervene with the cook's counting on nights like this. The first time he tried he had a less than pleasant encounter with Sanji's boots. The blow had taken him by surprise and sent him crashing through the Merry's small kitchen. He was lucky that, at the time, his chest wound had been mostly healed other wise the force of the kick might have opened it back up. They hadn't yet run into Chopper, and the thought of sewing himself up on his own again still gave the swordsman chills.

As he listened to Sanji rummage around the kitchen pantry Zoro did some searching of his own though the cabinets. He first grabbed a package of ground coffee, then Robin's box of assorted teas and set that aside on the crowded counter top. Opening the bag in his hand, Zoro practically groaned at the heavenly aroma, it was seriously too damn early. After dumping some grounds into a filter and placing that loudly into the coffee maker, he grabbed the pot to fill with water.

"Hey mosshead don't fucking touch my pots," Sanji yelled.

"I'm not touching your shitty pots, love cook," Zoro called back, shutting off the tap and pouring the water into the machine. Flipping the switch on he turned to his next task, tea.

Zoro browsed through the collection of teas until he found what he was looking for: chamomile. Setting that bag aside he grabbed the kettle from the stove, filled it with water and set it to boil. Next he filled a small mesh ball with the dried leaves, closing it and while he was snagging a clean mug hanging from the back wall, hooked the little ball and chain to the cup. On second thought, he grabbed one for himself as well for when the coffee finished. While waiting for the water to boil he ran over the past few day's events, trying to think of anything that might have triggered this behavior in the cook. Nothing easily came to mind, leaving him frowning at the kettle.

The first few times this had happened Zoro hadn't thought much of Sanji's behavior, he had just chalked it up to simple insanity. The fact that Luffy had kept asking him to go up and talk to him during these episodes had pissed him off to no end. He really didn't get along with the cook and hated the idea of loosing a night of sleep thanks to his odd behavior. But, an order from Luffy couldn't be ignored for long. So, after a few bruised ribs and sleepless nights under his belt, he slowly started getting more of a handle on reading the blonde.

He didn't discover the real reason behind these episodes until after several failed attempts at calming the blonde, when he finally stumbled upon the tea remedy.

After a few times of trying (and failing) to make any conversational headway with Sanji - and some very one sided conversations with Luffy - Zoro was ready to give up. Frustrated and feeling like he was close to his breaking point, he tried something on a whim, tea. Nami swore it was the best way to relax at the end of a long day, and the swordsman was quite frankly desperate. Chamomile tea to be precise; he had found was the most soothing, and usually helped calm the cook enough that Zoro felt secure in leaving him to his own devices, fairly confident that the worst of any attack had passed. The attacks began to lessen after that discovery, dropping from roughly once a week to once a month at worst, and strangely, Zoro found himself becoming less and less annoyed with Sanji. Yes, they still argued like hell, and constantly intentionally pissed each other off, but it felt more like friendly teasing than outright hostility.

The soft whistle of the kettle water beginning to boil brought the swordsman out of his thoughts. As he poured water for the cooks tea, the coffee machine gurgled as it finished brewing. He quickly made himself a cup, taking a few sips of the heavenly liquid. Topping off his glass, he took the two drinks over to the galley table carefully moving a few stacks of plates onto another counting before setting them down. Certain none of the remaining smaller piles of dishes would fall, he turned back to the pantry.

"Oi, curly brow," he called, poking is head back in. Sanji was standing still, his back to Zoro, a hand running repeatedly through blonde hair, while the other held his cigarette. "Oi," Zoro repeated, making the cook jump.

"What?" he all but snarled.

Zoro rolled his eyes. "Stop counting and come sit down before I drag your lanky ass out here and make you."

Sanji gave him assessing look, as if deciding whether or not to take the swordsman's threat seriously. Evidently Zoro's unimpressed scowl was enough to convince him to relent, and he exhaled a long stream of smoke before snubbing the cigarette out and heading over to the table. He dropped down into his seat with a weary sigh and droop of his shoulders. Zoro shut the door to the pantry and sat down beside the cook, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Zoro?" Sanji's voice wavered a bit, and his hands still shook slightly as he pulled the mesh ball from his cup of tea. "Thanks."

Zoro grunted, taking another sip of his coffee. No, that wasn't a smile he was hiding behind the mug. As he watched Sanji take a drink of the tea, his shoulder visibly relaxing, he couldn't help but feel some relief himself.

They sat in quite silence for a while. Zoro thought back to the first night he had gotten Sanji to drink the tea. After hauling the cook to the small table back on Merry, and forcing him to _sit still for_ _ **one moment**_ _dammit_ ; he finally had calmed down enough to focus on the drink. He had been skeptical and accused Zoro of attempting to poison him, but had eventually tried it. The change had been almost instant as his whole body practically melted, slumping against the table while he cradled the mug.

After a few sips in the silence, he finally started talking and Zoro had listened quietly as Sanji told him a story. A story about when Sanji was young and a storm had caused him and the crazy chef back at The Baratie to end up stranded on a rock in the middle of the ocean. A story about how they survived for longer than should have been humanly possible, and of the grisly things they had done to survive – before, by some miracle, being rescued. Zoro had sat quietly, listening and looking at man before him a new found respect and understanding.

Post traumatic stress disorder, PTSD, was the most likely cause of the cook's behavior, according to Chopper. Something would trigger Sanji's memories of his time on the rock, putting him in a state of panic. His obsessive counting of their food stores was born from his anxiety about such an event happening again and taking every possible precaution to ensure the crew was prepared for the worst case scenario. The triggers could be almost anything thing, sometimes large and obvious, sometimes smaller and more subtle. As Zoro interacted with the chef more, he slowly began to pinpoint the things that triggered the cook. A storm passing by the in the distance for example, or long, monotonous stretches of time on the sea between islands. Days when the crew had been particularly rowdy at meal times often triggered the worst attacks. Sometimes, though, he wasn't sure what triggered the blonde, and just did his best to help.

Sanji leaning against him startled him out of his thoughts. He blinked down at the lanky man slumped against him. This was certainly different.

"Hey, shit cook," he murmured, jostling him. Sanji groaned, shuffling closer and resting his head on Zoro's shoulder. After a moment the blonde moved again, frowning and arranging arranging the two of them so the swordsman's arm was wrapped around his shoulders. Seemingly happy with this new position he sighed, relaxing against Zoro's chest.

As he looked down at the of lanky blonde currently content to curl up against him Zoro stubbornly tried to deny the warm glow of affection growing in his chest. The cooks breathing was slowing and growing more rhythmic as he seemed to be falling asleep. The swordsman debated for a moment on if he should wake the cook up, but decided against it.

Whether Zoro had intended too or not, the stupid cook had become someone important to him; someone who was quickly surpassing the title of friend, even perhaps of nakama. Wondering briefly to himself if Luffy had expected something like this to happen he dropped a quick kiss into soft blonde hair. "Shitty cook," he breathed. "You don't have to thank me."


	2. Post Traumatic Sex Disorder

This chapter got long, and is where the M rating starts to come into play. Un-betaed, but I've read it over a few times and I think I caught almost everything. Comments and critiques are always welcomed! Enjoy!

One week.

That was how long it had been since his last attack. Sanji brought his cigarette to his lips taking a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling. One week since he had fallen asleep on the stupid green haired swordsman in the galley. He took another drag, starring at the floor of the men's bedroom. One week since he had woken up and practically sprinted back to the bunks, praying to whatever gods of the sea there were that he didn't wake the man up. A practiced hand dragged through blonde hair and he rubbed the back of his neck. One week, and Zoro hadn't said a word to him.

"Fuck." Sanji dropped his head into his hands. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to confront him? Was he? Was it awkward to fall asleep on ones nakama and not say something?

"Yeah, 'cause that would go over well," he muttered to himself, leaning back on his bed. "Hey Zoro, thanks for helping with my panic attack, hope me falling asleep on you wasn't awkward or anything. Ugh."

The cook rolled over on his side ensuring his back faced away from the door, a frown drawing curled eyebrows together. It really wasn't Zoro helping him through his attack that bothered him. He was actually quite grateful for all the nights the marimo had spent up with him. How the idiot knew when he was having a bad night he had never figured out, as he was sure to be _nothing_ but quiet when he got up to leave. But he was thankful for the swordsman's company none the less.

He sighed. He wasn't just thankful, he frankly depended on him some nights. Slowly, somewhere down the line, Zoro spending the long, panicked nights with him had become a pattern he relied on. Nights where he spent more time on his own lead to shakier mornings, and a more difficult time getting his emotions back on track. But the nights where Zoro joined him in the galley – where he usually landed - always had better mornings. Things always felt normal after the nights where he wasn't left alone for very long.

Sanji groaned, snubbing out his cigarette in the ash try next to his bed. During this time Zoro had gone from someone who drove him crazy, to friend and nakama, to something now he didn't dare label. He couldn't deny that last week - despite being one of the worst attacks he had had in a while - Zoro had been a great source of comfort and he had felt relatively back to himself the following day. This of course took into consideration the fact that he intensely and viciously ignore how waking up cuddled up under the swordsman's arm made him feel.

Those emotions Sanji had decided were something he didn't want to deal with and was trying very hard to keep it that way. The problem came from the fact that every moment he had to himself he found his mind wandering back to that night; wondering what might have happened if he had stayed. What would have happened if Zoro had woken up as he left? Would he have called him back? What would happen if he talked to him about it now?

He squeezed his eyes shut, his mind replaying the soft rumble of the marimo's voice in the dark and calloused fingers ghosted over his scalp where lips had been pressed. Sanji knew that wasn't his imagination, as much as he tried to tell himself it was. Worse, he knew how his heart jumped when he thought about that kiss. How desire pooled in his gut when he wondered if confronting Zoro meant he might get to kiss him properly. Wondering what it would feel like to finally sink his hands into green hair and press himself against the man, holding them together, lips and teeth crashing against each other.

He hissed out a ragged breath at the feeling of his erection straining against his pants. Sanji groaned, rolling over onto his stomach and trying to will his boner away. This reaction exactly was why he didn't want to think about confronting Zoro. He knew that if he tried all of this confused emotion would come bubbling up in one long garbled stream of words that would make no sense and that would surely seem to come out of no where to the marimo. He didn't feel up for telling the swordsman that – when he allowed himself to think about it - Zoro had long surpassed just "nakama" in the cooks mind and was quickly passing "crush" into much more dangerously unexplored territory.

Fuck. That thought in particular wasn't exactly helping his erection as his brain helpfully supplied a mental image of what he hoped would happen if he admitted these feelings to Zoro. Grunting, Sanji flipped over onto his side, back once again to the door. The chef glared down at his pants. Stupid marimo giving him a stupid boner. Stupid brain for not listening and giving him lovely images of Zoro shirtless, and stupid him for dragging his hand against said boner.

"Shi-it." Sanji hissed, his hips involuntarily rocking up into the pressure. He gripped himself through the soft material of his slacks. This one apparently wasn't going to just go away on its own. Biting his lip he quickly undid his belt and the buttons on his pants, moaning softly when he pulled his cock free from the confining fabric of his underwear. Long fingers wrapped around the base of his member, squeezing and slowly dragging their way up to the tip before back down.

Sanji moaned again, imagining someone else's hands around him as he stroked himself. Imagining Zoro next to him, large hands pinning him down while he toyed with the chef, his teeth teasing along hip bones. The image of Zoro licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the head before taking him all at once had him pressing his other hand against his mouth to try and quiet the noises he was making.

He could feel his release building in his gut as he stroked, his hand moving faster as he imagined what sex with the swordsman would be like. How running his hands across Zoro's tanned chest would feel and dragging his nails down his back while the marimo slammed into him. The thought of Zoro inside Sanji, filling him in such an intimate way sent him over the edge; his orgasm pulsing through him, cum wetting his hand and dampening his shirt with his release. He venomously denied moaning Zoro's name as his hips rocked pathetically through the last of his orgasm.

Sanji lay in his bed, basking in the warm after glow of post orgasm for a few moments. As the reality of what had just happened sunk in, he flushed hotly, ears burning and he curled around himself. "Fuck," he muttered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking shit!" That had gotten out of hand and he angrily berated himself for letting it. Now what was he supposed to do?

Mouth turned down at how helpless he felt to his emotions, the chef decided he couldn't dwell on it now. It was almost lunch and be needed to start getting things prepared if he wanted to feed his nakama on time. Glancing down at the drying cum on his chest and shirt he made his first plan of action getting changed. He got up and started towards the bathroom attached to the boy's room, pealing his shirt off and tossing it into his hamper as he did. He would do laundry later.

Grabbing a washcloth from under the sink Sanji wet it and began scrubbing himself clean, making sure to throughly wash his hands as well. He also stuck his head under the cold water, scrubbing his face and through his hair for good measure. As he walked back into the main room wet hair dripping onto his shoulders, he tossed the the washcloth into the hamper as well, sourly realizing he hadn't been as careful as he had thought and the front of his pants and boxers were now completely soaked. The blonde sighed, deciding it was better to just change out of everything completely then wait for things to dry.

Belt and fly still undone from a few minutes ago, it was easy for Sanji to shimmy out of his slacks and kick them off to the side. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and had them half way down his legs when a loud, uncomfortable cough broke the silence. Yelping, the chef spun around and felt all the color drain from his face when he saw Zoro standing in the doorway, a light pink staining his cheeks as he very pointedly looked the ceiling.

Face turning red, Sanji quickly covered before crossing his arms and fixing the swordsman with as intimidating of a glare as he could muster while being mostly naked. "W-what the fuck do you want, marimo?" He grit out. Shit, his voice wasn't shaking, was it? And that wasn't his chest and ears going red from mortification, not at all. He shifted his weight back and forth, desperately trying to figure out just how long Zoro had been standing there, he hadn't exactly shut the bathroom door while cleaning up since he hadn't expected anyone to come down to the bunks this early in the day.

Zoro rolled his eyes at the chef, looking just over his head. "You know, shit cook," he said, dropping his gaze to look at Sanji briefly before looking back up at the ceiling. "Some of us don't want to see your gangly ass butt naked this early in the morning." The swordsman slouched over to his bunk and lay down. "Anyway, I came down here to tell you Luffy is bitching about lunch." After a moment of silence Zoro glanced over again. "What's up with you?"

"What? I- I'm not, just... It's nothing," Sanji stuttered, turning around in a huff and pulling his clothes out of the closet. "Are you going to leave so I can change?"

"Fuck off. You're the one changing in the middle of the room for everyone to see, you pervert. Use the bathroom like normal people do." The swordsman folded his hands behind his head, settling in like he was going to nap.

Muttering obscenities under his breath about how most normal people knocked at a closed door, Sanji gathered his things and headed towards the bathroom. "And close the door!" Zoro called after him. "No one wants to see you jacking it either!" Dropping the clothes on the counter, Sanji flushed an even deeper red a strangled noise escaping this throat before yelling a loud "fuck you" at the shitty swordsman and slamming the door to his laughing face.

"Fu-uck," he groaned, sitting down on the toilet with his head in his hands. What the hell had the swordsman meant by that? Normally, Sanji wouldn't have given the comment a second thought, just yelled at the man for being crude, but now... Groaning again, he pulled one of his cigarette packs out of the small vanity, tapping one out onto his hand before tossing it back in the drawer. He lit it, taking a deep smokey breath and trying to wrap his head around the situation.

If things were normal he really wouldn't have cared; but with Zoro and him hardly speaking this last week after his attack, and his rather, disturbing realization of his (denied) feelings for the marimo, he felt inclined to over think things a little. He didn't think he had been that loud earlier, there was no way Zoro had heard him, right? The man might have seen him cleaning up, he was stupidly quiet in those clunky boots of his sometimes. But there was no reason to think that was suspicious, right?

Sanji took a few more drags off the cigarette, flipping on the bathroom fan as he exhaled, watching as the smoke drifted up and away from him and out of the little room. The nicotine wasn't calming the anxious voice yelling that the swordsman knew everything, had heard everything, and hell might have even seen some of it. He had most certainly gotten an eyeful earlier sneaking up on the blonde like that. Sanji felt heat creeping up the back of his neck as he took one last drag on his cigarette. No, he thought blowing the smoke to the ceiling, he couldn't let this bother him. Whether or not the swordsman knew didn't matter, he couldn't focus on this problem now. He had other things he needed to do today, and confronting Zoro about what he may or may not have seen or heard and the events of a week ago was not on that list. Focus on lunch.

Nodding to himself that this was the right course of action, he stood dropping the cigarette filter in the toilet and flushing it. Getting out of damp boxers felt wonderful and tossing those aside Sanji quickly changed into one of his favorite outfits; black slacks and a crisp deep blue button down, paired with blue vest so dark it looked black in most lights. Dark socks, his favorite black tie and signature steel toed boots finished the look. Tugging everything into place he hummed happily to himself. If he was going to spend the day ignoring whatever was between him and Zoro, he was going to feel and look his best dammit.

Gathering the discarded boxers he poked his head out the bathroom door, looking around the bunks for the stupid marimo. Much to his annoyance Zoro was still hanging around, looking for all the world like he was sleeping. Sanji narrowed his eyes, he could never quite tell when the swordsman was actually asleep. As quietly as he could, Sanji quickly deposited the last of his dirty clothes into the hamper.

"Lord you take forever."

Sanji jumped, glaring over at the apparently awake Zoro. Well, that answered that question.

"You're worse than the girls when we make port!" Zoro grumbled, cracking open a golden eye to look at the blonde. "What were you doing in there?" A suggestive grin split his face, "Oh, was I right about you enjoying some _alone time_ pervert cook?"

Face flushing, Sanji sputtered at Zoro, stuttering phrases along the lines of, "I would never" and "you're the perverted one" before finally settling on yelling "fuck you" at the swordsman for the second time. Ears burning at Zoro's laughter, he made sure to slam the door extra hard as he stomped up to the grass deck. Sourly, Sanji made his way up the levels of the Thousand Sunny, waving away Luffy's excited whoop and cries of "meat" upon seeing the chef. He barely registered the way the rubber captain stopped momentarily in his antics, big brown eyes following him critically up the stairs to the galley until he shut the door behind him.

Inside, Sanji breathed a huge sigh of relief at finally being properly alone and away from the shitty swordsman. He had half a mind to flip the little deadbolt he had asked Franky to install (a protective measure against certain rubber hands), but decided against it, worried his lovely Nami or Robin might need something. No, better to just get to work. Sanji rolled up his sleeves and threw on his signature pink apron as he debated on lunch, deciding that something cold would be better as the day promised to be a hot one. Build your own cold cut sandwiches with a veggie and fruit salad seemed like a good choice; quick and easy to put together and the lighter foods wouldn't leave his nakama feeling bloated in the heat of the day. He could make some homemade lemonade and maybe some cold coffee for Robin and Brooke.

The chef smiled to himself as he started pulling what he needed out of the galley's fridge, cold turkey, ham and some beef left over from the night before would go on the meat spread, an assortment of veggie toppings on the other. He pulled a large platter from one of the upper shelves, along with a large bowl for the salad, pursing his lips as he debated if shredded or deli styled meats would be better for the sandwiches. Deciding on deli slices – as they would ultimately require less clean up – he grabbed his favorite chefs knife, ran it over the sharpener a few times before starting on the turkey.

Cooking, Sanji had always found, was a bit like meditation, allowing muscle memory to take control and his mind to focus on other things, like Zoro. He frowned, the stupid swordsman just wouldn't get out of his head, and his mind kept replaying what Zoro had said earlier down in the bunks. Sure, him and Zoro always teased each other, but suddenly he couldn't remember if it had always been so sexual, or if he was just reading too much into his words.

"Sanji!" Luffy's bright call brought him out of his thoughts. He glanced over to see the smiling rubber captain standing in the door way. The chef sighed, a small smile on his lips.

"Lunch isn't quite ready Luffy. I'm sorry but you'll have to wait."

"Hmmm," the captain hummed. He wrapped his arms around Sanji's torso, making him shift, and peered over his shoulder. "What are you making?"

"Build your own sandwiches," Sanji replied, long used to the cuddly captains antics. "Any topping requests?"

"Bacon!" The blonde winced, Luffy's voice was just a bit too loud for how close he was to his ear. He quickly ran over the mental list of their stores. He had some pork loin set aside to thaw he could pull some cuts from.

"Okay, but I'll have to change supper around a little bit." The boy's excited whoop was the last his ears could take and he shoved Luffy off him, threatening to make dinner with no meat if he couldn't stop yelling. His threats just had the captain laughing as he sat down at the large dinning table.

Happy at his ability to move more freely again, Sanji quickly finished slicing the last of the sandwich meats. He set his knife aside, washing his hands quickly before layering the slices on the serving platter. The black haired captain sat quietly, watching him for a few minutes before speaking up. "How are you feeling Sanji?"

"Hm?" He glanced over his shoulder, a little taken aback by Luffy's serious expression. "I'm fine, why are you asking?"

"Sanji. I know you had an attack a few nights ago... Are you okay?" The rubber man's voice was soft, but held a tone Sanji knew all to well meant his nakama wasn't planning on letting just any answer slide. The cook sighed, wiping his hands on the apron at his hips and sliding the finished platter into the fridge to keep cold. He took a seat across from the captain at the table.

"I'm fine. The other night... That..." He paused. How much did he tell him? "The other night was the worst it's been in a while. Nami said we might be out at sea for a bit longer than usual before we set off... I guess that's what caused it..." Sanji slumped, he always hated talking about his attacks.

Luffy leaned forward so he was at eye level with the cook. "Zoro came and talked to you right?" The boy smiled gently at him. "I heard him follow you."

Shit, so someone else had heard him the previous night. Sanji dropped his head onto folded arms, a frustrated groan slipping through clenched teeth. "Sorry for waking you up Luffy, I didn't think I was that loud. I mean I know I left in a bit of a hurry, but I try to be quiet. I don't want to wake you guys up, it's my issue to deal with, you shouldn't have to, it's bad enough Zoro wakes up, that marimo can sleep through anyt-"

"Sanji." Luffy's soft voice stopped his babbling. "It's okay."

The cook stiffened momentarily, glancing at his captain smiling easily at him. He sighed, anxiety relaxing from his frame before burying his head again.

"Thanks," the blonde mumbled. A bit like Zoro the rubber man always seemed to be able to head off his anxiety.

The boy laughed, leaning back from the table. "You always seem happier after Zoro," he mused.

Sanji's head shot up, blinking rapidly at the boy. "I... What do you mean, 'after Zoro'?"

The captain's grin was wide and bright. "Just after Zoro. You're always in a better mood whenever you and Zoro are together!" Luffy's grin softened into a smile again, which would have seemed suspiciously understanding if it wasn't so sweet. "Even when you two are fighting both of you smile more than you ever do when you're on your own!" He laughed again. "Even when Zoro tries to piss you off you're smiling!"

The blonde stared dumbfounded at Luffy. His heart felt like it had come to a crashing halt in his chest, and all of his organs had collectively decided to evacuate his body. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but no sound came out. What did Luffy mean he was happier around Zoro? The swordsman pissed him off to no end! Sure his thoughts towards him had changed a bit, okay a lot, in the past few weeks, but that didn't change the fact that they were still nakama and in a weird dysfunctional way they expressed that through fighting. The whole crew constantly bickered and fought with each other! It was just how they were, how they pushed each other towards their respective dreams. They were always like that right?

Him realizing he had developed feelings for Zoro hadn't changed their dynamic, had it? Sanji had tried desperately to squash any and all feelings for the marimo... Unsuccessfully. But he had been trying really hard to not let things get awkward... Unsuccessfully again, but that was just when it was him and Zoro right? Things hadn't changed with them and the crew, right!?

Oh god, what Luffy knew? What if he had figured it all out? What would happen then? Zoro was his first mate after all, surely he would find out. Then what? Zoro would definitely confront him about everything, and Sanji was really quite certain he did not want to deal with that just yet. He was having enough trouble admitting things to himself, let alone to someone else.

Seemingly unaware of Sanji's brain currently derailing itself, Luffy crossed his arms with a large grin before proclaiming, "I'm glad Zoro makes you happy, he's a good first mate!"

Oh. Of course, that's what Luffy was talking about. Luffy was just happy Zoro was able to help him out because he was first mate and it was the first mates job to help lead the crew along with his captain. He was just happy Zoro was able to help do his job even though Sanji and him fought like cats and dogs. Yes. Yes, that was it. That was all his annoyingly perceptive caption was saying.

Mind desperately grasping onto that thought, despite how feeble of an excuse it seemed even to him, Sanji nodded his head along with the rubber man. "Yeah, he's good... at nakama." Fuck, that wasn't grammatically correct. Coughing and hoping Luffy didn't notice him trip over his words, the cook stood, wiping his hands on the pink apron. "Well, I need to finish lunch, so how about I cook up some bacon quick to hold you over so you get out of my hair and I can get things finished that much quicker?" He quickly moved to the stove, setting a cast iron pan on a burner to preheat and getting what he needed from the fridge.

Thankfully, Luffy took the bait and the mention of food pushed all previous conversation from the captains mind. Sanji relaxed a little, even letting Luffy watch him cook over his shoulder. Depositing the still sizzling strips of bacon on a plate he shooed the rubber man back out onto Sunny's grass deck, promising more bacon when lunch was ready.

Groaning, Sanji shut the galley door and flipped the little deadbolt. He slumped against the wall, slipping another cigarette between his lips and feeling for all the world he was royally screwed.


End file.
